


I Put A Spell On You

by myownremedy



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Holiday Fic Exchange, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownremedy/pseuds/myownremedy
Summary: For Professors Elain and Azriel, things come to a head during the Yule Ball.





	I Put A Spell On You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy Winter, misseshermionemalfoy! I hope you like this :)   
> I want to thank salvatorehart for the idea and the beta - this fic would not exist without her! I also want to thank rosehallshadowsinger on Tumblr for organizing this exchange and talking to me about this fic! :) <3  
> disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, ACOTAR belongs to Sarah J Maas. This is a transformative work. I don't own anything and I'm making no money from this. Please do not repost any of my fic on any other sites.

On the night of the Yule Ball, Elain looked around the Great Hall with satisfaction. Feyre and Mor had transformed the ordinarily plain looking Hall into a winter wonderland. Snowy trees and ice sculptures dotted the Great Hall, while a thousand icicle candles glittered overhead. Getting ready for the ball had been a whirlwind – Hanukkah had just ended, and they had swapped out what seemed like a thousand luminous menorahs for snowy Christmas trees – but it was worth it, Elain thought, looking out at the clumps of happy students and the couples on the dance floor. She herself was standing in a corner with a glass of pumpkin juice, content to watch Rhysand whirl Feyre around like they were in a competition. On the other side of the hall, Cassian and Nesta were arguing about something and Mor was deep in conversation with Jurian and Helion.

Elain didn’t know where Amren was – probably holed up in her office working on her translations – but Elain could just see Headmaster Suriel gliding through the crowd, Professor Weaver and Professor Carver on either side.

“There you are.” Azriel’s soft voice made Elain jump. She turned to him with a smile, her eyes widening at his dress robes. Azriel always wore black, and this time was no exception – he was in a black suit – but his velvet over robe was a deep cobalt blue. It actually matched Elain’s satin dress robes, and from Azriel’s small smile she knew he had noticed.

“What do you think?” Elain asked, gesturing at the hall.

“Feyre and Mor did a good job,” Azriel said quietly. Then, holding out a hand, he asked: “Would you like to dance?”

Startled, Elain looked up at him. Azriel was wearing his familiar blank mask, but he was holding himself so stiffly it was like he wasn’t breathing. He only did this when he was nervous, like he was trying so hard not to give his nerves away or fidget. Endeared, she smiled and took his hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor as the band struck up a fast, merry tune.

Azriel was as good at dancing as he was at dueling. He whirled her around expertly, guiding Elain through the complicated steps of the dance, one hand warm and firm against her lower back. They were both breathless by the time the song ended and a waltz began.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” Elain said as Azriel drew her closer. Azriel’s mouth quirked.

“The Marchioness insisted that Rhys learn. He refused to unless Cassian and I learned with him.”

“How unsurprising,” Elain teased. She knew from Feyre that Rhys was a half blood; his father was a muggle Marquess, with a seat in the House of Lords and his mother, the Marchioness, was from an old British-Indian wizarding family. She had always been curious about how that worked – how Rhys’ parents met and how their family kept magic a secret while being in the public eye – but it didn’t matter anymore. The last war had smashed the Statute of Secrecy so thoroughly that there was no way to repair it. 

Elain glanced around the Great Hall, taking in the other couples and the clumps of students clustered around the food tables, and then back at Azriel. His eyes were combing over the crowd carefully, like he was assessing the room for hidden threats. Azriel had never talked about his time as a spy during the last war, but Elain knew it still weighed on him, just as Rhys’ old curse wound still troubled him occasionally. Without thinking she squeezed his hand, causing him to look back at her.

“Have you seen the outside yet?” Elain asked.

Azriel hadn’t seen the outside yet, so Elain led the way out of the Great Hall and into the entrance hall and out through the open oak door. When they got outside, Azriel’s sharp inhale made Elain smile in satisfaction.

She had worked for hours to grow a magical rose garden in front of the castle, and had gotten Mor to charm the rose bushes to be full of faerie lights. It looked like the night sky, dotted by winter roses like the ones Elain wore in her hair. This early into the ball she and Azriel were the only ones out here, but Elain didn’t protest when Azriel offered her a scarred hand and led her over to a stone bench that had a warming spell on it.

“It’s beautiful.” Azriel said, looking around before looking at Elain. “You really outdid yourself.”

“Mor helped. I’m so rubbish with charms that I figured I’d let the Charms professor take over.”

Azriel laughed, slinging an arm over the back of the bench, the velvet of his sleeve brushing Elain’s shoulders. She scooted over absently until she was almost leaning against him, surrounded by the cedar smell of his aftershave.

“You did the hard work.” Azriel argued. “I’ve never met anyone who knows plants like you do.”

“I’m lucky. I loved gardening so much, but I never thought it would be a viable career path, let alone that Professor Suriel would ask me to be the herbology professor. And to be able to work with my sisters is amazing.” It was amazing, too, to work alongside all the people she fought with in the war: her sisters, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Helion, Lucien, Professors Carver and Weaver, Jurian – even Tamlin, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. She knew she could count of them to have her back. People liked to say that there was no safer place than Hogwarts, but Elain felt it was true. Even still, she had to remind herself that Hybern was dead at least once a week, and she knew from whispers and the haunted looks she sometimes saw at breakfast that she wasn’t the only one. .

“Sometimes I think I’m dreaming,” Elain admitted, staring out at the rose garden without seeing it. “I think that if I close my eyes I’ll wake up and I’ll still be in Hybern’s dungeon, knowing that soon he’ll come for me…” She trailed off and shook her head. She never talked about the war; had never wanted to, and knew that the others didn’t want to hear it. But with Azriel by her side the words just slipped out, like poison drawn from a wound.

Azriel took one of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “You got out,” he reminded her quietly.

She had got out because he had gotten her out, had disobeyed Rhys’ orders and worked with Feyre to sneak into Hybern’s mansion and rescue her. She was lucky. They were all so lucky, to have survived the war, even though Rhys would carry around his curse wound for the rest of his life. Even though sometimes Azriel still looked hunted.

“I never thanked you.” Elain turned to stare into Azriel’s dark eyes. His face was partially lit by the light from the entrance hall but she didn’t need that light to know what his eyes looked like, with their ribbons of green and brown. Or what his face looked like, with the determination and patience and rage quieted by a small smile. She had spent enough time with Azriel to know his smell, his presence, his expressions; she even knew his wand. She had used it to kill Hybern.

“You don’t need to.”

“I hope you know,” Elain said, “that I would do the same for you. I would come for you.”

Azriel’s hand squeezed hers and she squeezed back, wanting him, _needing_ him, to believe her.

“I do,” he said quietly. “Elain…” he trailed off.

“What?” Elain asked, tilting her head as she studied him. She opened her mouth, wanting to know what was wrong, but then Azriel raised one scarred hand to cradle her face. At his touch Elain’s eyes fluttered shut, almost without her permission. She sensed rather than felt Azriel lean close, and then he was kissing her. He tasted – warm. Like home. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t need to. Elain wrapped her arms around him, letting him pull her closer and kissing him back. She knew they shouldn’t be doing this, that technically they were chaperones, but she had wanted this since the war.

When they broke apart Azriel kissed the hinge of her jaw, and then under her ear. “Elain,” he whispered, running one big hand down her back.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, tilting her head up to offer Azriel better access to her neck.

“We’re in front of the school,” he pointed out, dragging his teeth against her skin. Oh, she was in trouble. Thank Merlin it was dark out.

“What time is it?” Elain asked, running a hand down Azriel’s broad chest. “Do you think Suriel will get mad if you and I retire for the evening?”

Azriel stopped kissing her neck, making Elain whine, to check his pocket watch. “It’s late enough,” he said. “Mine or yours?”

They ended up going to Azriel’s quarters, a neat set of rooms behind a painting of an over zealous knight. While it was similar to Elain’s rooms, with a small bedroom off the main parlor, there were complex and ornate number charts decorating the walls instead of plants.

Azriel distracted her from further investigation by striding into his bedroom and shrugging off his velvet over robe. He looked so good in just his black suit.

Azriel held out his arms. “Come here.”

Elain obeyed, winding her arms around his neck and standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him. His arms tightened around her, holding her close as his lips moved gently against hers. At first he kissed her slowly but soon it grew heated, his arms urging her ever closer, his tongue coaxing her into a deeper kiss. When they broke apart for breath Elain pushed at his suit jacket until he took it off and let it fall to the floor. He started unbuttoning his waistcoat, his eyes never leaving hers. Then his waistcoat was on the floor and he was unbuttoning his shirt.

Elain couldn’t breathe. She felt overdressed in her dress robes, with the sweeping skirt and long, tight sleeves. This wasn’t her first time being with someone, but every movement of Azriel’s fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt seemed so momentous compared to anything she had done before. Azriel was so private and reserved that the act of him baring himself before her made her feel heady, like she was drunk.

Azriel finished unbuttoning his shirt and took it off, revealing a broad expanse of brown skin covered in darker brown lines. Elain stepped closer, entranced by the swirls of Azriel’s tattoo, which covered his pectorals, shoulders, and upper arms. The tattoo was symmetrical, and as she looked carefully she thought she saw numbers hidden among the swirls and dots.

“Is this henna?” She reached out carefully and ran her finger along one of the swirling lines.

“Yes. Enchanted to be permanent.”

Elain took another step closer. “Are there numbers in here, or am I imagining things?”

“It’s arithmancy,” Azriel said. “It’s spells for protection, healing, and luck. I got it done during the war.”

“It kept you safe for me.” Elain brushed a kiss against his chest. This close, Azriel’s smell was deeper, richer, and she inhaled shakily as she brushed another kiss against the base of his throat.

“You’re still dressed,” he observed, plucking at one blue satin sleeve. Elain laughed.

“How about you do something about it?”

He did; a tap of his wand to undo all the tiny buttons on her robes and then the blue satin had pooled on the floor around her. For a minute he just looked at her, heat in his eyes. Elain felt an answering heat pool in the pit of her stomach and flushed.

Slowly, Azriel dragged a finger from the center of her collarbone to the hem of her undershorts, stopping right before he reached where she wanted him. The heat in Elain’s stomach built and she took a step closer, standing on her tiptoes to kiss under Azriel’s ear.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered. Azriel obeyed, bearing her down onto the bed and blanketing her with his body.

Elain lost track of time. Outside it was cold and frozen, but inside there was only heat as Azriel lit a flame within her and nursed it until she became an inferno, breathless and elated. Later, much later, she lay draped over him, her ear pressed against his chest.

“I think this Yule Ball was a success,” Elain mused. Azriel laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest.

“What gave you that idea?” He teased, running a hand through her hair. And then, still laughing:   
“Merry Christmas, Elain.”

Outside, it began to snow.

**Author's Note:**

> for those curious, Elain is the Herbology prof, Azriel is the Arithmancy prof and former spy, Feyre teaches Transfiguration, Rhys teaches Astronomy, Mor teaches Charms, the Suriel is headmaster, the Bone Carver teaches divination, the Weaver is the Potions Master, Tamlin teaches Care of Magical Creatures, Lucien is the Groundskeeper, Cassian teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts and Nesta teaches Muggle Studies. Helion is the librarian (keeper of knowledge!!), Amren teaches Ancient Runes, Madja is the healer, and Jurian teaches History of Magic!
> 
> PS my Tumblr is [here](http://marnz.tumblr.com) :)


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